


Not like a monster

by Napalm_arrow



Category: Library of Ruina (Video Game)
Genre: I'm kind of tired to be honest, Seriously he's the longest lasting guest, Short redemption, We need more works with Philip, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 04:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Napalm_arrow/pseuds/Napalm_arrow
Summary: It was supposed to be the end. The final battle against the Patron librarian of this floor, win or lose it didn't matter in the end. He didn't feel anyway.So why? Why does he have this yearning.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Not like a monster

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to get back into the groove of writing. With everything going on I kind of lost it for a bit, so hopefully this will get me back to how it was before.

He felt nothing.  
Even as he stood across from the people who he felt he should have been angry against he couldn’t feel a sliver of emotion. Maybe that was for the best after all. Emotions seem to have been the thing that had gotten him into this mess in the first place, so getting rid of them must only make things better right?  
Readying the rod he brandished as a weapon the Crying Children prepared to fight his opponents in front of him, but something felt off about one of them. Something was nagging at him as he charged forward striking and attempting to block as many hits as he could. As his rod clashed against the glaive that the Patron Librarian had he still had that feeling.  
While he was blocking the fists and weapons of the other mostly Lui dressed librarians his sight wandered to one that was different from the rest. She wasn’t wearing the red overcoat with gold endings and black suits, nor did she look like she really belonged with this group. No she had on her right side a marble almost night like suit, and a beige coat with red stain, but it was what was dangling behind her that caught his eye.  
A marble wing.  
Cracked and leaking several magma like fluids his gaze was zeroed in on the object that protruded from her back. Even as several attacks hit him, his eyes didn’t wander as his body and suit took the blows with minimum damage. It was then he noticed something new had crawled inside him out of nowhere.  
A yearning-no an intense craving for something that she possessed. It had to be about that wing, but something in his mind said it was deeper than that. Something about her just screamed of a familiarity that he had lost, and that he needed back.  
It made no sense to have this sudden feeling that had come from nothing. The Crying Children forced his head to the side and continued the fight, his rod cracking from under the chin of a brawling librarian, and tried to go back to that emptiness that he was used to. After all, what good were emotions if they put you in mortal peril?  
Yet despite that as the battle raged on that feeling that he would gain something from taking something from her persisted. Why wouldn’t it go away? He felt almost like a junkie who needed that next drug, or a starving man denying himself the food he needed to live. It was almost maddening at how persistent it was.  
As his rod and the object of his strange desire’s weapons clashed he could deny it no further. The burning within him was worse than the fire that was consuming him from the outside, he wan-no NEEDED whatever it was that she possessed that seemed so tantalizing.  
While they were clashing, just when she was about to break away, his idle hand shot out and grabbed the left side of her face. His thumb forced itself into her left eye socket and she screamed in surprise and pain at the sudden action, and the pain. The other Librarians stood shocked for but a moment at the sudden brutality from his otherwise more careful fighting, that quickly disappeared as they went to rush him to stop his actions.  
That feeling he got told him if they stopped him that whatever chance he had would be gone, that it was a now or never sort of deal, so in a moment his wing morphed and spawned a cherub version of himself to distract him, and then another, and soon he was shielded from harm as they took to defending him while he did what he felt was needed to.  
The Crying Children let go of his weapon and tried to bring his other hand to her face, tried because her right and holding her sword tried to shoot out and impale him, but he was faster and his free hand caught her as he leaned to the side to avoid the attack. Soon he started applying more and more pressure until he heard her bones start to crack and shatter and she cried more and more until she let go of the weapon, her hand now mostly useless.  
With that taken care of, his right hand quickly joined the other in impaling her eyes, and he only now noticed her raven black hair that went down her face as he started jerking her head back and forth, up and down as he tried to pull something from it. Soon she fell back, maybe in an attempt to get his hands out of her face, but she fell with him straddling her upper body as his hands stayed firmly in place.  
In this position The Crying Children looked more like an animal mauling it’s prey than anything humanoid or sentient. Perhaps that was even a more avid comparison as he pulled his left hand from her socket, ignoring the squelching sound, and looked at his crimson covered fingers. After admiring it for a bit he made a fist and quickly brought it down again and again, as his pulling hadn’t worked to try this instead.  
He ignored her cries as he continued determined to get whatever it was she had that he needed, and he felt that if he could feel something it be disgust over the actions he was taking in the current moment. The Crying Children thought as his hand made her face look more and more mangled of how this strange craving had caused him to act like this? Surely there had to have been a point to all this and he didn’t have a suddenly lust for brutality? Finally, after she had long gone quiet, she turned into fragments of light and fluttering pages. His still scarlet hands snatched one specific page before he could disappear like the rest of them.  
The Crying Children looked at the page for a moment before that feeling told him he already knew what to do. So right as the Librarians broke through the blockade intent on ending him for the travesty he’d caused their friend, he brought the page close to him, almost giving it a hug. Like a disk going inside a player the page quickly retreated inside The Crying Children.  
And he exploded.  
In a literal and metaphor way. A raging fire shot out in all directions consuming all in it’s path, and on his back a wing slowly grew from a ember of a tiny cherub wing , to a proud crackling wing. It spread far and wide with his other joining him, so in the middle of an inferno stood a wax angel kneeling. On the inside something similar was going on. The memories he had forgotten came rushing back.  
All the happiness.  
All the sadness.  
All the anger.  
It all came back so fast and strong that it was almost overwhelming him. Every crack and crevice he had was slowly being filled with things he’d lost. He was sure that if he could see his face that his smile would be bigger and wider than even Oswalds. For the first time in what felt like a long time the Crying Chi-  
No.  
Philip felt like a new person.  
As the fire surrounding him died down, except for the fire of his wings, Philip looked around and down at himself. His hands covered in viscera was the first thing he witnessed. Like he thought he would the first thing he felt was the disgust at his actions to do so. The library took so much from him, but even he didn’t want such a thing to happen to others.  
The next thing was that the top of his tuxedo had burned away in all the chaos he caused leaving his torso bare, along with a familiar hole in the center, but he cared not that the others could see his waxy upper body. Speaking of the other he looked up to see their reaction.  
They all stood there confused but guarded in his transformation. The patron librarian took a step forward, herself now covered in scaled and samurai armor and opened her mouth. “Philip?”  
It felt so good to be called that.  
“Yes...that’s who I...;” The realization of everything he did slowly dawned and a mountain of regret and shame came with it. He didn’t want to hurt so many, he never meant for all this to happen, he only wanted to be a hero. Instead that clown had…  
 **That Clown**  
The shame and the regret faded away in a moment, as boiling rage took its place. It was all that damn clown’s fault. The Library's too, but some semblance of an inner voice told him he couldn’t fight both the library and the ensemble at the same time. No he needed to pick one of them, and he wanted to tear that permanent grin off the jester’s face for doing this to him more than he wanted the library gone. Even if he did the rest of the ensemble would obviously be against the murder of one of their members.  
“ **Move.”** His voice came out powerful, full of spite and anger. It was so different from the one that had been speaking to them a moment ago. Malkuth stepped forward with the weapon ready, but she didn’t use it. “We still can’t let you- **I DON’T WANT THE BOOK!”** He interrupted and then continued. **“I WANT OSWALD’S HEAD ON A PIKE!”**  
The rage threatened to consume him, and he’d have preferred that to the emptiness of The Crying Children. He was sure if he’d lost these feelings that hollow thing that was a part of him would take over again, and he wouldn’t allow it. He’d rather die as he was than let that thing pilot him again. The librarians looked at each other deciding what to do before a wordless conclusion was made.  
They stepped out of the way.  
His hand quickly went down to snatch the rod, which quickly became a wax longsword, and his wings sprung to life. With a powerful flap he took flight and sped past his former opponents and up the staircase to the higher floors. He passed Elieen and the gears, and then Greta stuffing an opponent in a sack, and Bremen as their chorus was finally ended by a green haired librarian. It was then he found him.  
That damnable ‘mermaid’ had just been slain leaving only Oswald, He was about to shout something when he sniffed the air. “Oh my what smells of smoked weasels?” His aggravating voice only furthered Philip’s rage at him as he, and the librarians fighting him, looked up and saw him.  
“Ah look a star performer has come to help deal in smiles, oh but what his. It seems that face has a few more holes in it, and a great deal of fuming paprika coming out of them?” If Philip had cared what he said he would’ve put his hand to his face and found he had eyes now. Black holes that substituted for them with a singular orange dot in each that grew more and more bright.  
His wings flapped once before he went into a dive. Like an eagle chasing it’s prey he zero’ d in on the ensemble member, who was barely able to dodge the strike. A strike that shattered the ground and left a giant burn. “ Yikes!! Careful bestie that could have cracked my delicate shell, and let out the gooey oo- **ENOUGH!!”** His voice came out powerful stopping Oswald from continuing his flowery speech patterns.  
 **“I’M GOING TO EVISCERATE YOU!!”** His weapon flailed around in an attempt to strike his target, as Oswald went on the defensive from his assault. The librarians on the side stood dumbfounded at the sudden infighting from the Ensemble. Philip of course paid them no mind as his single fury filled motive was within reach.  
“ You let those- **SHUT UP!!”** He wouldn’t let another word out of that masked mouth. Every word the clown uttered only fueled his swings which grew more and more focused in each strike. Right when he was sure that his next swing would take the damnable distortion’s head he was blindsided by a loud bang and a spray of confetti that pushed him back.  
“ No no no no my dear stary youth, we’re all a part of this stage after all~ Can’t have an actor trying to break the audience's immersion now. “ With that Oswald clapped his hands, and the illusions of Yuna and Salvador came back. For but a brief moment he felt like the same Philip in that tent when he became like this.  
“Young Philip wh-” That was as far as the illusion got before Philip let out a roar and charged again. It wasn’t his longsword that cut down the illusions, but his wings morphing into more accurate, but crude, versions of them to destroy the illusions. His piercing gaze turned to Oswald again before he continued his assault, the fire in his wings growing more and more out of control.  
“CEASE AND DESIST YOU RAVING FROWN!! EVEN AT THE SHOW’S END YOUR LITTLE LIGHT’S GROWING TO THIN!! CAN’T YOU SEE!?” The clown jumped back throwing sharp playing cards at the wax angel. He flew past them, letting them sink into his flesh, just so he got in close enough. The eye of the mask went wide one last time as the left side of the clown’s was impaled with his weapon.  
The ensemble member didn’t even get any last words as he turned to pages and left him there with the librarians, still too in shock to do much. He turned to them, his emotions starting to cool and temper. His thoughts pondered for a moment what to do before his body quickly found its way to the floor. Emotionally and physically exhausted. He let out slow deep breaths as he lay facing the librarians at their mercy. “Well he got rid of that guy, but he left an awful mess?” He wasn’t sure who said that, but his mind wander to the mess par-  
Oh.  
Around him lie melted wax in small puddles. Looking at his arm and chest he saw that even they looked slightly melted, and the cards growing more painful as they were in his body. Still, Phillip couldn’t help but feel even a little proud for slaying Oswald. He’d given the Wedge Office so much trouble, and even if it wasn’t much it was a start to redeeming himself for everything.  
Unfortunately that’s all it would be.  
Philip wasn’t sure if he’d ever fall back into becoming The Crying Children again, and even then there was nothing he could do to make up for a whole nest of people being dead. Even if he could his body was starting to feel the effects of all his emotions flowing out as he slowly melted from his upper body. No, as much as he wanted Phillip couldn’t be a hero for the city, but he could stop himself from becoming a monster again.  
“Please.” He asked the librarians as he lifted his sword up one final time. “Put me next to the dawn office.”  
 **Book of Complete Philip Obtained**


End file.
